What's In It For Me?
by MrsRoy
Summary: Daniel sits upon the dark side of the clouds and mopes. He needs her. He finds peace in her presence. He's done with thinking about it. It's time to act. Detty. Post finale, S4.


**So, I'm sure it's been done to death, but this is my version of how the finale should have played out.**

**I don't own them. I just share.**

**Please feel free to let me know what you think!  
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><p>"<em>Is everything okay dear?"<em>

"_Yeah, It's just, Betty, she wants to leave and ..."_

"_I heard."_

"_Just the other night, we were here, talking and working, I mean, she's writing my bio, I wouldn't trust anyone else to do that!"_

"_Are you sure that this isn't about more than just Betty's editing skills?"_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_I'm talking about the fact that you might have feelings for her."_

"_What?"_

"_Mom, that's crazy."_

"_Perhaps. Or, could it explain your behavior?"_

"_What? No. No way."_

"_Daniel, darling, you were so upset at the possibility of her leaving you nearly burned down your office. If you are having such a hard time with her leaving, you need to give her a reason to stay."_

"_Betty, I can't live without you."_

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Claire Meade watches her son through the seams of repugnant perspex, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and hoping like tomorrow's Sunday that her baby makes the right decision.

She's a bright woman, accomplished in business, and she has a theory.

She's watched Daniel battle his inner demons, she sat idly by as he married a woman not long for this life. She witnessed the rebuttal, as he pushed aside feelings that swept by the wayside, that simple taste of happiness.

He'd never been particularly selective about the company he kept, but Claire knows that Betty is clearly a keeper.

And she prays, Oh dear God, upon all that is holy, that her son might suddenly realize the truth.

"I said," Daniel stands tall, stiffens his back, engaging his facade while the armor slips back into place. "I said that I can't live without you. You're the best employee I've ever had the pleasure to work with."

Betty sighs, because his eyes are pleading, but she's realized that since she was a kid, she'd have to follow her dream some day. She can't just be his right hand girl. Daniel Meade has a reputation, one that he's sure to rekindle.

"I'm sorry, Daniel. You'll have to do better than that."

"Okay," He rubs his chin, caught up in a moment, "Okay, what about this. You and I work together. You can be my co-editor."

"Daniel, are you forgetting something? Something big and Wilhelmina shaped?"

"I'll just write her a check, butter her up a bit." Daniel abruptly conveys his solution because he knows that he's losing time.

She watches his shoulders slump as she shakes her head, affirming his surrender. What happened to the rebel?

"Daniel, you can't just buy people off."

Betty blinks, and he's lost in the caustic frames that stage her quaint doe eyes. He makes sure that he's distracted, because he's not yet prepared to accept her refusal. His mother was right. Betty has made him vulnerable, she messes him up. She's that splinter that won't leave his heart.

"I understand." The words tear him apart; a soul hurt that aches with the success of failure. He doesn't understand. He doesn't care to comprehend. The simplest lies are the ones that wound the most.

"Daniel ..."

He doesn't look twice as he turns his back. His mother's wrath will be enough.

"She's leaving?" Asks Claire as Daniel eases the knot in his tie, tugging at the silken fabric.

"Yes."

"Did you give her a reason to stay?"

Daniel sits forward in his chair and scrubs his hand down over his face, cupping his chin in his hand.

"I offered her the position of my co-editor. Here with me, the two of us, together, in the same office."

"What? Are you out of your mind? She's not your protege, Daniel. You can't groom her like a poodle."

Daniel stares at the four walls, the empty space that where nothing ever seemed to run smoothly. His throat coughs a gasping breath as he realizes that his window of opportunity has been closed and he's losing control.

"I think ... It's time for me to let her go."

Claire takes a steady breath, filling her lungs with oxygen and exhaling slowly through her nose. She hopes that her son knows better than to brood over his mistakes. She hopes that he can shake his grief and live with his regrets.

It's going to be a very long night for this matriarch.

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><p>Her thighs are soft and yield to his fingers where he grips her knees tightly. He opens her up to his gaze and she's beautiful, he wants just to stroke her.<p>

The pads of his fingers graze her sopping folds and he licks his lips, he's never been this close to her in all their years together.

She smiles up at him, her teeth are white and bright, her lips are red and swollen after his assault. He'd crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue demanding entrance as it danced across the roof of her mouth.

He holds himself above her, his body is solid and his arms flex as she grasps his biceps to steady herself. Her hair covers the pillow like a veil; her musky scent envelops him as she cradles him between her legs.

He pushes forward as he enters her heat.

And beneath the cool, crisp sheets of Egyptian cotton, Daniel Meade wakes to the reality of a smothering nightfall.

His palms are sweating and his heart thunders beneath his ribcage. He throws back the bedding and pinches his nose, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his free arm resting upon his bare thigh.

He needs a drink, something stiff.

The apartment seems cold, and his body trembles as he slinks across the frigid floor with his bare feet and his swallow of scotch.

He looks out over the sleepy city, the moonlit skyline of Upper West Manhattan. She's out there somewhere, his little ray of sunshine. Somewhere out there, she slumbers.

He won't hang on. She won't call.

He hates to see her go.

The burdens of the day rest wearily upon his heart. He's always found the weight of responsibility impossibly unbearable. He hopes that he's doing the right thing. If you love somebody, set them free. His mother taught him that, he'll never forget it.

He was the one that always told Betty, _if you want to be somebody, you have to take some direction, _words of wisdom that die on his tongue now. He's willing to pay the price.

Oh, happy days.

He tips his glass and tilts his head and the amber liquor burns his gullet, but he still smiles. He's Daniel Meade, there's plenty more where that one came from. By the morning he'll be tickled pink and Betty will just be another wisp upon the dust.

Daniel drains the cut crystal, but the bitter aftertaste lingers.

There is no fucking sunshine.

He seems to forget his own strength as he hurls the glass across the room. It spirals towards the far wall of the kitchenette, colliding with the rich timber paneling. Fragments litter the floor, the tumbler lays destroyed, but still, Daniel doesn't blink.

Once, when he had nothing, he had Betty. Now that he has nothing, he aches of loneliness.

"Take care of yourself," He tells the breeze.


End file.
